A whole 'nother ballgame/ Goalball gives sightless a competitive

Less than two weeks before the May 16 and 17 tournament in Utah, coach Lori Hall called a mid-court huddle before the start of the team's regular Monday night practice.

The topic was missed practices, and girls in red jerseys and bare feet clustered in a tight circle around Hall, leaning in close. She told them if they missed more than three practices, they couldn't go to the tournament.

"I love you guys and I want to see you do your best, and that's why I get on you about missing practice," she said. "Goalball is a great sport and it's even better when you're competing. I don't want anybody to miss the tournament."

The girls nodded and said OK. They were a different team than the one that began practicing last September. They were more committed. They still had the squabbles and small dramas of teenage girls, but they knew they had to come together as a team on the court.

They knew they were there to play goalball. Their sport.

The sense of ownership is palpable. Here is a sport for them, the blind and visually impaired students at the Colorado School for the Deaf and the Blind. Here is a sport to help them navigate the tumult of being a teenager in a culture obsessed with athletics.

Here is a sport - a difficult sport - to excel at, to letter in, to prove wrong those who told the students there are things they can't do.

Like sports. Students who are blind traditionally had few options in competitive sports at the school. Some visually impaired played football and basketball, or participated in track or wrestling, but the school has twice as many deaf students as blind ones, so they make up most of the athletic teams.

But eight years ago, Hall started a competitive goalball program at the school.

And it's their sport.

Because it is theirs, members of the girls' team were determined in the weeks before the tournament to play better than they ever had.

RULES OF THE GAME

Goalball is played on an area the size of a volleyball court, with tape-covered rope marking the boundaries. Players feel the rope with their hands and feet.

The ball itself is the size of a basketball, with holes in the rubber skin and bells inside. Three players on each side of the court, wearing blinders and protective padding, try to roll the goalball across the opposing team's back goal line. Players dive sideways to stop the ball with their bodies.

It can be scary for new players as they listen to gauge where the ball is rolling, hit the floor in a dive, cringe as they anticipate how hard the ball may hit them. After a few times playing, though, new players run to practice.

For some students, goalball is their first sport and their first experience on a team.

"Basically, we want the kids to know they have options," said Hall, who is visually impaired and who graduated from the school. "Just because they're blind doesn't mean they can't do everything they want to."

It's an important lesson to learn, because each member of the boys' and girls' teams has confronted roadblocks of their own or others' making.

Ashley Fritz, for instance, did poorly in regular school because she didn't want to use her adaptive equipment. She was embarrassed, and didn't want people to treat her differently. Lacey Urban had family members tell her she couldn't do things and teachers who gave her a free pass on grades because they didn't know how to make accommodations for her in the classroom.

The path of their stories ultimately leads to the empowerment they discovered at the Colorado School for the Deaf and the Blind, particularly on the goalball court.

That is why, after Hall's prepractice lecture, the girls quickly finished getting ready. They pulled on their tape-covered goggles, leaving them on their foreheads until it was time to pull them over their eyes.

They were ready to play. The tournament was in four days.

CHANNELING ENERGY

For the first drill, Hall had each player take a turn blocking 12 balls. Nekia Waldrup, 17, went first, strutting to the center position and pulling her goggles over her pale eyes.

She was born with albinism, which affected her vision. She compensated with firecracker energy that sometimes drove her family and teachers crazy. When she first came to the school, she was, by her own admission, "a pain in the butt." She channeled her energy into sports - football, wrestling, basketball and, beginning four years ago, goalball.

As she stood at the south end of the court, opposite her teammates, she bent her knees slightly in a forward-leaning defensive position. She missed the first two balls thrown at her; too much diving momentum pushed her sideways across the floor as the goalball rolled past her feet.

Hall shook her head. "Nekia, you can do better than this."

"I know," Nekia replied.

She blocked the next eight balls, and Hall clapped. "Excellent, Nekia! "

Her teammates clapped, too. Seven months ago, as they adjusted to each other and the new texture of their team, they might not have clapped. This time they did, and Nekia strutted off the court, smiling.